So, it's not the end of the world. In fact, it's really not a big deal at all. It just feels like it is to me. I made Cy the most ridiculous Easter hat his first year, with the inside yarn being my grandmother's wool. Then Rosa had her go with the obligatory rabbit hat. I had wanted to have Will in the same hat for his five month photos, and I cannot find it. I think I may have accidentally gotten rid of it. I can make another. Or I can just not have him in the hat and it's really not a big deal... but, I think it matters so much to me because I'm trying to have memories of my third, and I hurt to think how fast he's growing. And that this is probly our last. And that he could start solids next month and is sitting up and I don't want him to. And that I haven't journaled his life since I was in the hospital after having him. And I didn't document his first laugh, or his first roll. And I never got photos of his tiny body in that one pose. And the fact that his body was never tiny. I don't read to him every day either. And maybe I don't snuggle him enough. Or do enough face-to-face time. And I know these are the golden years. The years that every elderly grandma looks upon in the grocery store in longing for those years passed by. I know she wants to be back in my shoes, just for even a day. And when she says, enjoy it. It goes by too fast, I want to assure her that I do; I really, really do try and soak it up. The haggard thanklessness hasn't blinded the awareness of my soul that these years are the very best. My kids' world begins and ends on the moments I invest in them. They want for nothing other than to be snuggled, celebrated and invested in, and I ache to ever let this time go. And if he doesn't wear the hat, I might forget how little he was. Or how he smelled, and how each roll on his body squishes together when I pick him up. It might not be about the hat at all. But in my heart, I just really needed that hat.
Justice was in foster care for 1031 days. Since infancy, he has known this family as his very own, and today it is officially official. No more what ifs and the looming fear that someday he'd have to say goodbye. His story is not a simple one. But, his story is this: Justice has two parents and many siblings who simply love him unconditionally and will simply love him every day for the rest of his life.
We might be a few hours late to International Women's Day. That aside, it's pretty neat being a part of a community that quite literally creates life and creates purpose to living. I hope every woman, young and old, knows the breadth, depth, and height of her meaning and value to her experience and influence wherever she is. The women closest to me have been an example of selfless, inspiring, Agape love, and I only hope my tiny influence here can resemble such an impact. #internationalwomensday
It's the precious, little moments, the ones that gently whisper between the spaces of the larger, louder moments: we are here, and we tell a part of the story too. *highlighting this elegant hotel in a blog post today!
This rainy night shot reminds me of something right out of the 50s.